


it's suffocating to say

by Skyebyrd



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, POV from OMC, Set within ITCH2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: Based off of a tweet from @coolseandotcom: "At my wedding, you'll be able to come alone, bring a Plus One, or choose a Minus One, where you can uninvite one person of your choosing, no questions asked."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/OMC
Comments: 11
Kudos: 96





	it's suffocating to say

Sean isn’t a very complicated man. He’s simple, takes it easy. He doesn’t do any hard drugs, he doesn’t get drunk very often. He likes his romcoms, his after-school specials, his late night talk shows. He likes a cigarette every now and again, an occasional joint if it’s a special night. He’s up for his accounting job at 6 AM every morning on the dot and back at 5:45 every afternoon. On Saturdays, if the weather’s nice, he’ll fire up the grill and make burgers. If the weather’s bad, he’ll order takeout. 

Richie is...none of that. Richie is late nights, parties, and narcotics. Richie is dark comedy clubs covered in piss and gum, Richie is hard sex every single night and crying early into the morning. 

Sean loves him. Sean loves him so fucking much, more than he loves breathing, more than he loves his routine. More than he loves seeing the Rams winning at football, more than he loves his new promotion and shiny new desk. More than he loves his slacks and polos. 

Sean loves him, but doesn’t expect Richie to actually say yes when he proposes. Yeah, okay. He knows he shouldn’t have proposed if he wasn’t sure. The thing is, though -- he is sure of his commitment to Richie. Richie is one of his many, many constants in life and Sean can’t bear the idea of giving him up for any of it. He would trade everything in the world to keep Richie, to make sure he’s happy. 

So he proposed. And to his pleasant (joyous, exultant) surprise, Richie said yes. He said yes and they fucked all night and Sean was even convinced to take the week off on a surprise getaway to Santa Barbara, where they laid out in the sun and swam in the ocean and spent all their time together. 

Richie gets better. He becomes relaxed, he comes home more. Sean likes to think he’s making an effort but he also just thinks that it’s because Richie is genuinely happier. 

“Oh, you know what would be hilarious?” Richie asks, looking over their kitchen table at them. 

Sean looks up from his computer, halfway through an email to their florist on their color choices. Sean hums, urging Richie to go on.

“You know how people have plus ones? We should have like. A minus one.” Richie is laughing while he’s saying it, eyes shining so, so bright in the golden hour sun coming through the kitchen window. 

Sean wants to give him anything that makes him that happy. 

“What would that entail?” He asks, smiling. Richie’s still giggling, hardly able to get the words out. 

“People are allowed to either bring someone or uninvite someone, no questions asked. Instantly uninvited.” 

“That sounds a bit chaotic, sweetheart.” 

Richie smiles, so bright. 

“Yeah, it does.” 

Sean doesn’t even have to think that hard about it. 

“I’ll let the printer know.”

* * *

It hits about two weeks later. Sean doesn’t know what it is, this heavy, overbearing _ thing  _ that enters into their lives and takes Richie away from him. 

He gets a call from Richie’s manager about him throwing up just before going up on stage, telling Sean to keep an eye on him. Richie comes home, insists he’s fine, but sets about packing a bag anyway. 

And Sean -- Sean’s  _ never _ seen him this way. Not in the entire five years they’ve known each other. Richie is…

Richie is terrified. Down to his bones, in his fucking soul. 

“Where are you going?” Sean asks. That same fear is seeping into his skin, setting him alight with nerves. “What happened?” 

Richie doesn’t even pause in his movements, frantically shoving clothes into his suitcase. There’s about seven shirts and eight pairs of pants, but only two pairs of socks and a couple pairs of underwear, like even Richie isn’t sure how long he’ll be gone for. 

“Old, uh.” Richie’s shaking like a leaf. “Old friend called. From. Uh. I grew up in Maine. I gotta go to Maine. To Derry.”

Richie stops dead in his tracks, the shoes he had falling to the floor. It’s like he doesn’t even notice, standing there, staring at the wall. 

“Derry…”

Sean moves closer to him, pulls him close, noses his hair and kisses his cheek. 

“I love you,” Sean says. 

Richie still leaves. 

* * *

Richie is gone for two and a half weeks. 

Richie comes home, kisses him square on the mouth, unpacks his bag, and goes to sleep.

He is not the same Richie that left. 

* * *

It’s different, this Before and After. After Richie is this strange amalgamation of a stranger and a lover. He’s here, but he’s not. 

_ Eddie. _

That’s the name that keeps cropping up, over and over and over again. There are other names, too.  _ Bill _ and  _ Mike _ and  _ Stan _ ,  _ Bev _ and  _ Ben, _ those last two said just like that,  _ BevandBen. _ But it’s always  _ Eddie _ that calls late at night, when Richie is used to Sean being fast asleep. It’s  _ Eddie _ that calls in the middle of the day when Sean is at work; Richie probably doesn’t even know Sean can see the backlogged calls when he checks the voicemail at the end of the day. 

Something -- something happened to Richie. Something horrific. Something awful. Something harrowing. 

Richie is not the same person Sean proposed to. And Sean...well, he’s not sure what to do about that. 

Sean starts coming home from work early. He can’t tell if it’s helping. Richie sleeps a lot, is the thing. He’s constantly tired, constantly tucking into bed with his phone in his hand, texting away. Sean even saw him sending out physical, hand-written letters. Six little stamps attached to the front of six different envelopes, all heading across the nation to his childhood friends that Sean had never heard of before Richie left. 

Richie never mentioned them Before, but it’s like they’re all he wants to talk about After. He doesn’t talk about what they did in Derry, only what they’re doing now. 

“Bev and Ben just went down to Florida to visit Mike. He’s in the Keys right now, probably living his life to the fucking fullest. Marg Town, baby.” Richie laughs, barely looking up from his phone as he taps away and Sean eats his dinner. 

It’s Saturday, and the weather was nice. Burgers. 

Richie had made himself a sandwich. How he’d forgotten Sean’s long-standing routine is beyond him. Another symptom of the After effect. 

Richie’s phone rings and he stands up, taking his sandwich with him to the living room. Sean sits in the kitchen and listens to Richie laugh and laugh and laugh. 

“Hey, man, Eddie -- hey.” Richie’s voice is soft, gentle. Sean knew it well. He misses it. 

Fuck, he misses Richie so much. Richie is right  _ here _ . 

“Do you want to come to my wedding?” Richie asks and Sean doesn’t know how to feel. Richie had said it with such glee, like it was some joke. 

But isn’t it, at this point? 

“I’ll send you an invite. I’ll -- fuck, I should contact the printer, I don’t think I have any left here…yeah, yeah, I’ll ask for addresses in the group chat. No, no I don’t -- fuck, man, seriously?” Richie giggles and stops, then he starts up again, like he can’t help himself. “Fuck, good for you. Hey, divorcee’s are hot...there’s, like, a whole dating market for divorced men.” 

Richie sounds happy. He’s absolutely delighted, overjoyed at Eddie being divorced. 

Sean gets up and throws the rest of his dinner in the trash. He goes to bed. 

Richie doesn’t follow. 

* * *

There’s a guy at work. Andy. He’s soft, and kind. He likes playing golf on the weekends. 

Andy had asked him out a couple times, Before. Sean had turned him down, telling him he was in a serious relationship. And then a second time, telling Andy he was engaged. Andy took the hints graciously and has left him alone. 

He feels awful for looking at Andy, even though Richie hasn’t looked at him in weeks. 

Sean kind of wishes Andy would ask again. He’s not sure what he’d say, in the After. Would he say yes? Would he confidently say he’s engaged? He’s not. Confident, that is, he’s not confident in their relationship at all anymore. 

* * *

When Sean arrives home from work on a Friday, a month before their wedding, he’s made up his mind to cancel it. Money be damned. He can’t go through with it, he just -- he can’t. He can’t hold Richie back anymore. They’ll have to sell the house. Sean will have to find somewhere else to be, for a while...he should look into getting a storage unit. 

There’s a strange car in the driveway. It’s boxy, new. There’s no room left in the driveway for his own so he parks on the street. 

Sean sits in his car for a long time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, just...looking at the other car. 

It’s got a New York license plate. Long fucking way from Los Angeles. 

He takes a deep breath, and then another. Another. 

Walking into his own house, he feels like he’s intruding. His shoes barely make any noise as he walks down the carpeted hall, muffled into the floor beneath him. 

There’s laughter from the living room, little giggles. It tugs at Sean’s chest. 

“No, man, get this -- no, Eddie, what the fuck, man,” Richie’s _ laughing _ , full body, loud. “This is so funny, dude. Who are you really bringing?”

Sean is still in the hallway, wondering whether or not he should just continue on to the bedroom and leave them to visit. 

“I’m. I’m not joking, Richie.” 

Sean notices that Eddie is distinctively not laughing. 

“You -- you can’t.” Richie’s nervous, his laughter starting to bleed. Sean can imagine the way it tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t uninvite my fucking fiance to our own wedding, Eddie.”

“It says on the RSVP ‘no questions asked.’”

“That’s--”

Sean has a lot of questions. But...not really. He expected this, in a way, and he’s already made his peace with it. 

“Eddie…”

“Richie, I left my wife.”

“Yeah, and that was great, but--”

“I left her for  _ you _ . Because you make me fucking  _ brave _ . I saved your life and you saved mine and we’ve been in love since we were thirteen, and--and when I was leaving town I went by the kissing bridge and--”

_ Saved each other’s life?  _ Sean thinks. God, what the fuck even happened to them? Does he want to know?

“Eddie, I--”

“And I saw. I saw what you made for us. And I saw it was re-carved and I know it was you and I am never fucking losing you again. Be with me.”

Sean shouldn’t be here. Not for this. This is -- it’s private. 

“Eddie, I want to. I want to. I want to. But I’m -- Sean, he --”

“Leave him! Richie, all we need is each other.”

There’s a quiet. There’s a tense, harsh quiet, and Sean can’t stand it. He walks into the living room. 

Richie looks terrified. Nothing like the fear from a few weeks back, but he is still afraid. Eddie makes himself taller, standing in front of Richie like he’s trying to protect him. Clearly Eddie isn’t familiar with Sean at all. He can’t imagine Richie divulged much of himself to Eddie. 

Sean takes his engagement ring off of his hand and sets it down on the coffee table. Richie and Eddie watch the movement, carefully. 

“I was coming home to -- to call it off. Anyways. I know --” Sean looks to Eddie. “You make him happier than I ever did. And I can’t...I can’t keep him here when I’m not the one making him happy.”

“Sean, I’m so sorry, I never--” Richie’s crying, starting to blubber a bit. He does this when he’s having an anxiety attack and Eddie immediately reaches out to soothe him. “I’m so--so sorry, Sean, please, I didn’t mean to--”

“Richie. I know you didn’t mean to. I know you.” Sean laughs, but nothing’s really very funny except that he doesn’t really know Richie. Not After. Probably not even Before. “I’ve always wanted you to be happy. I cannot in good conscience keep you here if you’re not. I mean that. I love you, I do, of course, but I think we both know this isn’t working anymore.”

Sean takes a step back, and then another. 

“I’m gonna…pack up a bag. Go stay with...I don’t know. Someone, for a couple weeks, until I find a place to move. And I know you get, like...anxious over these things, so I want you to know Eddie can stay here. That doesn’t bother me at all.”

Richie’s crying, loud. Eddie’s hand is rubbing his back. Sean’s heart is snapping, sharp and brittle. 

But it’ll heal. It will. 

Richie and Eddie are well on their way already.

* * *

“Honey, did you bring the mail in?” Richie calls out across the house. 

“Yes, I brought the fucking mail in, Richie. I’m the only one to ever bring the mail in. You never bring the mail in, no matter--”

“How many times you ask, yes, yeah, whatever. Did we get that new card? It expires tomorrow and I’ll need to get gas.” 

“Uh,” Eddie draws the word out and Richie can hear letters hitting the kitchen table as he sorts through them. Eddie laughs, then, and says, “Oh, Rich, you gotta fucking see this.” 

Richie looks over to the kitchen from his spot in the living room, firmly sat on the couch, feet on the coffee table. He’s in his socks and boxers and nothing else, because it’s fucking hot out. 

“What is it?” Richie asks, standing up and scratching on his belly. Eddie waves the letter in his direction like he’s teasing it, and Eddie’s smirking. 

“I think it’s a wedding invitation.” 

Sure enough, there’s a swirling, gilded font over the front of it, Eddie and Richie’s names on the front and their address. The return address is just from the printer. 

“Wouldn’t have taken Bev to secretly announce her wedding via invite but I can respect it.” 

They giddily open the invitation together, Richie accidentally slicing his finger on the envelope and having to hand it over to Eddie to take over. 

“Well, Bev and Ben have been so secretive the last couple of months...I’m not too surprised.”

They get the invitation out and it’s a deep royal blue. There’s a bouquet on the front, heather and snapdragons and wheat. Very rustic. Not at all Beverly Marsh’s style. 

_ You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sean Amons and Harry Sage. _

They both stare in shock. 

“I thought he was dating a guy named Andy?” Eddie asks after a few moments. It’s like he’s pulling at straws, not knowing what to say. 

“I thought so, too, but that was like...fuck, almost two years ago? He was a dick.” Richie swallows. “Fucking glad they broke up. Andy asked Sean out a couple times while he and I were together, too. Weirdo.” 

Eddie opens up the invite and out drops a little paper, handwritten. Special. 

_ You can uninvite one person of your choosing, no questions asked. One requirement: please don’t uninvite my fiancee, I am quite attached to him ;) _

Richie laughs. He laughs, and kisses Eddie, and they set about RSVPing to the wedding. 

_ Minus one: Andy.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Please come check me out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/skyebyrd1)! I write a lot of ficlets that are available in my pinned!


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